


The Swooning Olive and the Sweet Cajoling Flute

by SansSeriffic



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Creampie, Dirty Talk, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Gangbang, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:13:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22996009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SansSeriffic/pseuds/SansSeriffic
Summary: “If you’re looking for the bard, he left a while ago.”Geralt turned to face the innkeeper, who was furiously mopping spilled ale from the oaken counter with a filthy rag and studiously not meeting Geralt’s eyes.“Hrmm.” Geralt was a man of few words, glaring at the man with a look on his face that he knew from experience had made stronger men than this one break.“I swear, I didn’t know he was yours until it was too late. I would have warned them off otherwise.”-This is basically Just filth with no redeeming qualities.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Other(s)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 482





	The Swooning Olive and the Sweet Cajoling Flute

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Sonnet du Trou du Cul" by Rimbaud and Verlaine because there's no reason not to lean into the filth, tbh.

“If you’re looking for the bard, he left a while ago.”

Geralt turned to face the innkeeper, who was furiously mopping spilled ale from the oaken counter with a filthy rag and studiously not meeting Geralt’s eyes.

“Hrmm.” Geralt was a man of few words, glaring at the man with a look on his face that he knew from experience had made stronger men than this one break.

“I swear, I didn’t know he was yours until it was too late. I would have warned them off otherwise.” The man was sweating now, the acrid stink of fear coming off him in waves. “Lads, I would have said. Lads, go find yourself someone else. That’s the witcher’s bard, that is. Although the boy did go willingly, so really, it’s not me who’s to blame. You should really make it more clear that — ”

“Stop blathering, old fool,” Geralt growled, “and tell me where they’ve taken Jaskier.” 

“Th—there’s a private banquet room upstairs. The last door to the right.” The innkeeper flinched away like he expected to be struck down right then and there, but Geralt payed him no mind, choosing instead to leave the man behind, crossing the busy tavern and climbing the narrow case of stairs. Geralt’s hand was closed around the grip of the dagger on his belt. He had left his swords behind in their room, not expecting to need them inside the walls of the keep.

He was almost at the end of the corridor when he heard it: Jaskier’s heartbeat, rabbit-fast, and an anguished whimper like Jaskier was in pain. Just outside the door, he stopped for a moment to take stock of the situation. Witchers were taught to think strategically. He needed to know how many enemies he was dealing with and if Jaskier was injured, whether he might a healer’s assistance. There were two heartbeats other than Jaskier’s, and Geralt took a deep breath to see if he could smell blood, Jaskier’s or anyone else’s. It — it was not blood he smelled. Nor the sour smell he associated with fear, or the burnt stench of panic. The smell was heavy and cloying. Musk and sharp spices: arousal. Arousal and semen. 

There was another moan. Jaskier. Then another. Not Jaskier, one of the other men.

“Fuck, you take it so well. Tell me you want it!”

“Ye— ahh, please! Give it to me. Come inside. I want it…”

Jaskier sounded wrecked, and Geralt’s cock was straining against the ties of his breeches, pulsing in sync with the slap of skin on skin, the sound of fucking, and the wet slide of cock into a willing hole. He should leave. Turn on his heel and not come back until morning, Maybe sleep in the stables with Roach instead of their room, which was too close by far to the sounds of Jaskier getting fucked into oblivion and loving it. He didn’t, though. Instead, Geralt found himself with his hand on the door, pushing it open slowly.

They had Jaskier on the table, on his back. He was naked from the waist down, his legs spread and high up in the air. One of the men was at his head, holding Jaskier’s legs open so that the other could fuck right into Jaskier’s hole with hard strokes of his cock. Jaskier’s chemise was rucked up, his stomach and chest exposed, his nipples red and bitten. His cock was red and glistening with wetness at the tip. It slapped his belly ever time the man fucking him bottomed out. He wasn't saying anything right now, but that was due to his mouth being stuffed full of cock.

Jaskier was being fucked from both ends, and he was moaning around the cock inside his mouth like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. The man fucking his arse, a tall, sturdy man with the stature of a soldier gone somewhat to seed, sped up his strokes, filth spilling from his mouth all the while. “You’re such a pretty slut, taking me like that. Knew you wanted a cock in both ends the moment I saw you prancing around the place like a bitch in heat.” He punctuated each word with a savage thrust, Jaskier’s moans growing increasingly frantic. A few more thrusts was all it took and Jaskier came, covering his chest with spurts of sticky white semen. Geralt’s own cock throbbed in sympathy. The man in Jaskier bottomed out, groaning at what must have been Jaskier’s hole clenching around him like a vise, and came inside. Geralt could smell his spend filling Jaskier up.

The other man, the one with his cock down Jaskier’s throat, looked up and saw Geralt. If he was startled at all, he didn’t show it, just pulled his cock from Jaskier’s spit-slick mouth, a strand of saliva connecting his cock to Jaskier’s red lips. He let Jaskier’s legs fall onto the other’s shoulders and gripped the bard by the hair, turning Jaskier to face the door. “Look who’s joined us, little slut!” Jaskier’s eyes widened. They were dark with sated desire, the bright blue almost eclipsed by black pupil. He looked well fucked. His eyes roamed Geralt, falling, at last, on Geralt’s erect cock straining at his flies. Jaskier licked his lips.

“Geralt — “ Jaskier sounded wrecked. His voice raspy, his words slow to come. “You can, y’know. Join us, I mean.”

The man who still had his cock inside Jaskier, seemingly recovered from his climax, chimed in, “The more, the merrier!” He stepped back, his now limp cock slipping out of Jaskier’s hole, trailing a mess of come with it. Jaskier’s hole looked red and used, white spend dripping out of him. Geralt was rooted to the spot, as if held there by some spell, only able to watch. “You need to get in here, Randall. This whore’s hole is sweet. Not so tight anymore, though,” the man chuckled.

“No need to be crass, Herris. I’m sure the slut’s perfectly tight.” Randall moved to the other end of the table. He gripped Jaskier’s legs, lifting them up again. “Hold yourself open for me, pet,” he said, and Jaskier obeyed, holding himself open for the other man as he parted Jaskier’s arsecheeks to expose his reddened hole, fucking the come trailing out back inside with both of his thumbs. “Such a lovely mess, little slut. Let me mess you up some more!”

His cock was long, with a thick, bulbous head at the end, but he didn’t fuck it into Jaskier right away, just continued thrusting into Jaskier with the fingers of one hand, making obscene, wet squelching sounds as he did so, and stripping his cock with the other. Herris had made his way around to Jaskier’s head and gripped his hair to guide his half-hard again cock into Jaskier’s waiting mouth. “Clean up the mess you made, whore.” Jaskier moaned at that and started sucking on the cock offered to him, gagging when Herris thrust in too far and whimpering every time he did.

“Going to make such a mess of you. Ahh, take it! Take it!” Randall, close to coming now, finally breached Jaskier’s hole with his cock, but only by an inch or two. He fucked into Jaskier in short, shallow thrusts, pulling out completely each time, only to open him up again on his cock with each thrust inside. With a loud groan, he climaxed, pulling out at the last moment, leaving Jaskier’s hole gaping open, trying to close around nothing. Randall shot ropey strands of come onto Jaskier’s twitching hole and then thrust his cock in to the hilt, fucking his own come back into Jaskier. When he pulled out, Jaskier’s hole was gaping open, unable to close back up again, two loads of come dripping out freely.

“You should really have a go, Witcher. Now that we’ve fucked him open for you.” Randall was smirking, but Geralt was too aroused to care about anything but getting inside Jaskier, so he ignored the challenge he could hear in the man’s voice.

“Jaskier?” Geralt’s own voice, to his own ears, sounded like that of a stranger’s. “Jaskier, what do you want?”

Jaskier, pulling his mouth off Herrin’s cock, looked at Geralt with a blissed-out expression on his face. “Fuck me, Geralt. Please! I need it. Need your cock inside of me!”

Geralt did not bother undressing, just pulled open the lacing on his breeches and took out his hard cock. Jaskier’s eyes widened, his pupils blown even wider in lust, and Randall gave a short whistle. “Good thing we loosened his hole up. He’ll be able to take your whole arm once you’re done fucking him with that!”

He could not even tell the other man to shut up because he was focused only on Jaskier. Geralt stepped close and gently placed Jaskier’s legs over his shoulders. Jaskier was hard again, and his hole was still wide open. Geralt fucked his cock along the crease between Jaskier’s cheeks, the head catching on the gaping opening with every slide. When he finally slipped inside, he did not even have to apply much pressure. Jaskier was so loose that the head of his enormous cock simply slid inside with no resistance. He fucked in and out, sliding deeper with each thrust and pushing the others’ come deeper into Jaskier, some of it escaping whenever he pulled back out, both his cock and the rim of Jaskier’s hole wet and messy with it.

“Mine,” he rasped, “You’re mine. Gonna — gonna fuck you so deep and hard, you won’t ever forget who you belong to!”

Jaskier was beyond complex thought, it seemed, because his words were nothing but a litany of “Geralt. Geralt! Please, Geralt!” Sweet begging, interspersed with even sweeter moans.

The moans and whimpers coming from Jaskier spurned him on. His bard looked wrecked, spit slicked lips cherry-red and used. He had come again at some point, the muscles of his arse too weak to even clench around Geralt’s massive length, but his cock had given a few weak spurts, and his stomach was messy with it, the trail of hair there matted with come. 

Geralt fucked him with hard, long thrusts. Each time, he pulled out almost completely, with only the head of his cock left inside, only to slam back in to the hilt. He could feel his own orgasm building like dark, heavy clouds rolling in during a storm. He put his back into it and fucked Jaskier even harder, and trailed his hands up his chest, pinching Jaskier’s nipples while he bottomed out in his arse. Jaskier’s eyes rolled up into his head, his whole body seizing up in one last, dry, orgasm, and Geralt followed him down the precipice. His balls tightened and pumped waves of come deep into Jaskier. He stayed inside until he had emptied completely, had filled Jaskier up to the brim.

They were alone in the room now, the other two men having packed up and left while Geralt had been busy fucking Jaskier into his current blissful state. With trembling hands, Geralt stroked along Jaskier’s sides and gently pulled his softening cock out of Jaskier, releasing a flood of milky white come that dripped between Jaskier’s arsecheeks and down his thighs. Jaskier smelled of sex: come, sweat, and tears. Geralt had fucked his come so far up into him that he would smell like Geralt for days — a thought at which Geralt’s spent cock gave a twitch of interest. Jaskier, who was limp with satisfied exhaustion, didn’t even protest when Geralt turned him onto his front and parted his cheeks to get a better look at his pink, open hole and traced the rim with the pad of his thumb, just dipping inside where Jaskier was wet and messy with come.

“He was right. I could fuck my whole hand into you like this,” said Geralt.

“Mercy!” The sound that came from Jaskier was more of a whimper than a word, but clear enough for Geralt to understand nonetheless.

“Another time, perhaps.” More whimpering, but this time it sounded more enthusiastic than pained. He helped Jaskier turn around again and sit up. The bard winced when his arse was propped against the table’s edge. 

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s eyes were very large and very bright. Geralt reached up and combed Jaskier’s sweaty hair back from his forehead and temples.

“Yes, Jaskier.”

“Would you —” Jaskier quieted but then seemed to gather his courage. “Would you kiss me? I’d understand if you’d rather not. I’ve had someone else’s cock in my mouth. Several someone else’s cocks, really. So, this is not exactly the way I envisioned our first kiss going. Or any first ki —”

“Jaskier?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

Geralt kissed him while Jaskier was still laughing, and it was perfect.

~fin


End file.
